


Reconstruction

by kivalka



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Some angst, not too much because wylan is my son and he deserves the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-16 14:12:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19652263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kivalka/pseuds/kivalka
Summary: Wylan and Jesper settle in to their new life at the Van Eck mansion, which of course comes with its set of unanticipated challenges and unexpected joys.All characters belong to Leigh Bardugo





	Reconstruction

**Author's Note:**

> after many many years of being an avid reader and writer, this is the series that finally got me to pull out my computer and write my first bit of fanfic. i love love Leigh Bardugo (obviously) but I feel like she really left us hanging with Wylan and Jesper, so I decided to pick up where she left off. Enjoy!

The waters of the Geldcanal lapped gently against the Van Eck boathouse, the waves reflecting the candlelight drifting from the mansions lining it. Wylan gave a soft sigh:  
“No point standing out here, I guess.” The spell broken, Jesper and Inej followed him up the sloping lawn and into the house. Wylan led the others up the wide staircase, feeling his heart tighten at every step. Though he could hardly believe it himself, he almost missed the Barrel. This house felt far too large and far too quiet, and at every moment he thought his father might come striding around the corner. 

Wylan pushed open the door to the first guest room, opposite the master bedroom, and turned to Jesper and Inej.

“Here’s one room,” he said, somewhat lamely. It was much more awkward to show his friends around his father’s mansion than it had been to sleep in a one-room mausoleum with them. Fortunately, they didn’t seemed to mind; Inej hopped onto the enormous bed with a satisfied sigh.

“Oh sorry, Jesper, did you want this one?” she asked. Jesper rolled his eyes:

“If only you’d asked that before you threw yourself onto it with wanton abandon.”

Inej tossed a pillow in Jesper’s general direction, and he let it fall to the floor.

It was almost a light-hearted, joking conversation, but Wylan heard the strained undercurrents of the others’ voices. This was not the happy ending they had all – even if they wouldn’t admit it – been hoping for.

“Good night, Inej.” Wylan gently shut the door to her room and moved on. Jesper followed. 

Almost automatically, Wylan turned toward his old room and pushed open the door. Despite the gaping hole in the dining room ceiling, his excursion here with Kaz felt like a lifetime ago. The nursery, however, was the same as it had been then, painted fish frozen mid-swim on the wall, the paper flags above the sailboat-shaped bassinet fluttering slightly. Wylan saw Jesper’s shadow elongate in the rectangle of light stretching from the doorframe, heard his feet shift on the smooth floorboards. He didn’t look up.

“This used to be my room.” Wylan’s voice was embarrassingly small. He silently kicked himself. “Sorry, this is pointless. I don’t know why I even... I—I’ll show you to your room.” Jesper squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. 

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s not pointless. This isn’t easy for you, and that’s okay. Take your time.”

Wylan felt a surge of gratitude. He leaned on the doorframe, ignoring the pain that lanced through his ribcage at the pressure, and finally looked up. Jesper’s face was partly shadowed, accentuating its sharp lines. He looked like a painting, save for his eyes, which seemed unable to shed their mischievous twinkle. Wylan made a split-second decision:

“My father tried to have me killed, you know.”

“What!?”

“That’s how I ended up in the Barrel. He told me he was sending me to the Belendt School of Music, but then one of his men tried to strangle me on the browboat. I jumped into the canal to escape.” It felt strangely freeing to tell someone, especially when that someone was Jesper, and especially when Jesper’s expression had morphed from shock to anger – anger on his behalf. 

“I am going to eviscerate your father,” Jesper whispered, gripping his revolvers. Wylan almost smiled.

“I think the Kerch legal system will deal with him just fine, now that the Merchant Council is so desperate to save their faces.” 

Jesper didn’t look fully convinced, but he nodded and took Wylan’s hand. They stood for a moment in silence. Wylan took a last look at the nursery, then continued down the hallway. 

“There—There’s two more rooms over here.” Wylan internally kicked himself once more. He wished he had Jesper’s level of comfort with these situations and his ease in speaking about them. He wished he felt as confident as he had earlier in the music room, but his heart was full of grief for Matthias and fear of this big empty house. And he didn’t want Jesper to let go of his hand. Wylan took a deep breath and, ignoring the blush he felt spreading across his cheeks, turned to Jesper:

“Will you stay with me?” Jesper raised an eyebrow.

“I guess you don’t want to wait for the medik, then?”

“That’s not—That’s not what I meant!” Wylan sputtered, his face heating. Jesper gave a small smirk.

“Sure it wasn’t, merchling.” Then, growing serious, “Of course I’ll stay.” 

After changing into the nightclothes the steward had managed to find, Wylan stood by the window of the guestroom, watching a bodyman’s boat drift past. He felt heavy. The image of Matthias’ cold, ashen face kept cropping up in his mind, intensifying the knot in his throat. He breathed in and tried to focus on his memories of Matthias alive, how he would smile so gently at Nina and scowl at everyone and everything else. So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Jesper enter and started when he spoke:

“Don’t laugh at me.” Wylan turned, and then he did laugh, then he stopped because it hurt. He couldn’t quite wipe the smile from his face, though: the steward had provided Jesper with nightclothes as well, but they were much too small, and he looked ridiculous. His pants barely fell past his knees, and his shirt left most of his midriff exposed. Wylan giggled. Jesper pouted, but that only made Wylan laugh harder.

“Stop,” he panted, “you’re going to make my ribs worse.” Jesper winked:

“Wouldn’t want that, now would I?” Wylan blushed, but he was glad to see Jesper’s spirit returning bit by bit; he had looked crushed when seeing off his father, and it had broken Wylan’s heart. 

As gingerly as possible, Wylan climbed into bed, shifting until he found a position that made his ribs ache slightly less. Jesper threw himself under the blankets.

“Ouch!” Wylan protested at the shifting of the mattress. Jesper sighed.

“You know, I like Anika and Keeg, but I might have to have a few words with them.” Wylan shook his head.

“They were just doing their job. You’d have to take it up with Kaz.”

“Do you want to get rid of me already?”

“Hey, it was your idea!” 

They settled themselves in, then Jesper took Wylan’s hand in both his own. He brought it to his lips, then clutched it gently to his chest. Wylan’s heart fluttered.

Wylan lay awake for a long time. He thought he would fall asleep easily after the ordeal of the past few weeks, but he was no longer accustomed to this house, to the fact that he was no longer in danger, from Barrel thugs or from his father. That chapter was over, and a new one was beginning, with him at the head of the Van Eck empire. The thought made him more nervous than he’d admitted to Jesper – it had been years since he’d had lessons in anything business-related. 

Wylan tried to chase these thoughts away. He focused on Jesper’s slow breathing, on his hand still resting on Jesper’s chest. Tomorrow, he would have to be Wylan Van Eck, heir to one of Ketterdam’s most important companies, but tonight, he was just Wylan, who was tired and injured and finally had a safe place to sleep.


End file.
